


The Obligatory Coffee Shop AU

by musicin68



Category: The Expanse (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Banter, Canon-Typical Violence, Explosions, Gen, Humor, Implied/Referenced Terrorism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-24 16:39:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16643858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicin68/pseuds/musicin68
Summary: Chrisjen Avasarala owns a coffee shop. That goes about as well as you'd expect.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [surena_13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/surena_13/gifts).



> I have never really been a fan of the "Coffee Shop AU" genre (mostly because I think it is incredibly hard to do it well), but here we are. The idea for this stemmed from discussion with surena_13, and is duly dedicated to her. :) To me the idea of any of these people working in a coffee shop was just ridiculous and could only end in disaster. Oops, now you know how it ends. Disaster!
> 
> It did move away from the silliness I initially expected, but I hope it is enjoyable all the same. There are some darker themes, racism, discrimination, loss, and terrorism. There is also banter, good feels, and cursing. Lots of foul-mouthed cursing.

Chrisjen sprinted from the back room as soon as she heard the first crash. “Jesus Christ!” she exclaimed as she came into the front. A table had been smashed, and her newest employee had the leg of a chair in her hand. She wasn’t wielding it as a club so much as she seemed to be using it to make a point. Chrisjen had no idea where the rest of the chair was. A light skinned man in khakis and a red and white striped polo shirt was stumbling out the door in his haste to get away from the towering Samoan goddess of war that had appeared before him. Chrisjen was not so awed. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

The enormous woman turned to Chrisjen, her expression equally angry and chagrined. She pointed at the door with her chair leg. “He was an asshole.”

“Assholes are a common feature in customer service jobs, Bobbie,” she hissed, drawing the younger woman back around behind the wide counter. “If you want to continue working here you need to be able to handle that without resorting to destroying my fucking furniture.”

Bobbie looked down at the turned wood in her hand and set it on the counter slowly. “Am I fired? I’ll pay for the damages…regardless.”

“You’re damn right you will,” Chrisjen bit out before sighing loudly, “But you need a job to be able to do that. Is he going to be back to press charges?”

“I didn’t touch him.”

Chrisjen eyed her carefully, “Did he touch you?”

“No,” she said shortly. “He wanted to put these up on the notice board.” Bobbie held up a wrinkled flyer.

Chrisjen took it and her face became a grimace. “It’s not right,” Bobbie growled.

“It isn’t, but next time come and get me. It would be nice if the customers who aren’t assholes had a place to sit.” She glanced at the one customer sitting in the far corner. He looked up with a wry smile as if he had merely felt her eyes on him and hadn’t been bothered in the slightest that a barroom brawl had just broken out in front of him. She scowled and he returned to his book, still smiling.

She crumpled the racist propaganda into a ball and threw it in the garbage without a second look at it. Chrisjen headed back to the storage closet in search of a broom. By the time she found it and pulled it out she was shaking so hard she knocked the mop and snow shovel next to it to the floor with a clatter. This could not be happening again.

She closed her eyes, the handle of the broom pressed to her forehead, and tried to take slow deep breaths. It was a coincidence. The world was full of racist assholes. What were the odds that the radical group that had killed her son and driven her family into hiding had found her here of all places? There was plenty of hate spewed in the world; there were other groups of extremists. Besides, if whatever was left of the OPA had really tracked her down, surely her friendly neighborhood government relocation agency would already be knocking at her door. The split circle on the flyer was probably just a case of recycled imagery, copycat hate groups cashing in on a well known symbol. Just because it had been twenty-five years since their group had been beheaded, in no small part due to Chrisjen’s work, didn’t mean that their terrorist acts had been forgotten.

Copycats, sure. Groupies, right. Fuck she was definitely hyperventilating now. Goddamn them. It wasn’t fair, her entire life in ashes because she took a stand against hate and injustice. Fuck them, whomever they happened to be. Assholes hiding behind a blurry image didn’t get to frighten her like this. She had run once before and she’d regret it forever.

She headed back out to the front, broom in hand. Her face must have been too hard because Bobbie immediately looked worried. For fuck’s sake, hadn’t she already told the girl she wasn’t going to fire her? Bobbie had been working here almost six months, surely she knew Chrisjen well enough by now to realize that wasn’t going to happen. She tried to look a little less severe.

Their lone customer was helping Bobbie pick up the larger fragments of what had once been a table. He smiled at her ingratiatingly and held his hand out for the broom. Chrisjen frowned at him and handed it to Bobbie. Why was he helping? Was he hitting on her waitstaff shortly after seeing her threaten a man with a chair leg? That was interesting.

The smile on his face never wavered. “I don’t mind helping.”

“That’s nice of you, but I’m sure we can manage.”

“That guy _was_ an asshole.”

“Thank you for your assessment,” she said dryly. “But I’ve already been informed of that.”

“Well, he was. I just thought you ought to know, it was really his fault.”

Oh, he had definitely been hitting on Bobbie. And was now digging himself into a very deep hole.

“He handed her the broken chair leg, did he?”

“Well, no.” He actually smirked at her. “But he was the one who tripped and broke the table.”

Chrisjen raised an eyebrow before giving in. If he wanted to help, fine. “Thank you, Mr…”

“Cotyar Ghazi.” He stuck out a hand and she shook it.

“Chrisjen Rao. Thank you for your assistance Mr. Ghazi.”

“Cotyar is fine, Madam.”

He was looking at her quite intently and for a moment she thought she had completely misjudged the situation. But then he turned back to Bobbie with a smile and she relaxed.

Chrisjen had them stack the broken pieces of furniture in the vacant nook that had once hosted a microphone and speaker but never the poetry slams it had been intended for. Today seemed to be full of unwelcome reminders for her. She looked at the clock. Normally she’d stay open another couple of hours to catch custom from students attending night classes two blocks down the road, but not today. “We’re closing early tonight, Bobbie. I’m sorry Mr. Ghazi, I’m going have to ask you to go now.”

He grinned at her. “Having seen the alternative, I feel relieved to have been asked nicely.”

Chrisjen fished behind the counter and handed him a coupon. “I don’t want you to think I’m not grateful for your help. The coffee is on me next time.”

He shook his head. “It was no trouble. You don’t have to—”

“You’d rather have an I.O.U.?”

“Trust me, it’s easier to let her win,” Bobbie sighed.

Cotyar glanced at Bobbie, an eyebrow cocked, and Chrisjen rolled her eyes. “I believe in paying my debts. Take it. Please.”

The smile vanished from his face but he took the proffered card. “Thank you, Madam ah—Rao.”

Chrisjen started as he tripped over her name, but quickly set her face in the pleasant mask she had cultivated long before customer service had become her daily fare. “Goodnight, Mr. Ghazi.”

Well, wasn’t she just a jittery mess. He hadn’t been about to say Avasarala. He had just had trouble coming up with a name he’d only heard once. Two minutes ago. She needed to remind herself that just because she never forgot a name, and rarely failed to recall a face, didn’t mean everyone else could.

One of the problems with running a coffee shop was that you saw a lot of people. Had she assumed he was a regular when she had actually met him in the decades before being relocated? She didn’t recognize his name, but who was to say it was his real one? He looked to be about the same age Charanpal would have been. Her son had been dead twenty years. The face of a young man just on this side of adulthood could change a lot in in that amount of time. Jesus fucking christ, she was going to drive herself mad. Or worse, she was going to drive herself into a maudlin stupor.

Bobbie escorted Cotyar to the door and Chrisjen heard her rare laugh just before the tinkling bell above the door rang out. It was probably good, she thought. He was just a regular, not a ghost called up from her past by her overactive imagination. He clearly liked Bobbie, and though Chrisjen despised the idea of playing matchmaker the girl deserved to have some fun if that was the kind she wanted. Of course, if this Cotyar turned out to be an asshole, she’d find a way to fucking bury him.

Her employee made her way briskly back to the front counter, untying her apron as she approached. “Chrisjen, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I should be asking you that.”

“Why?”

“Bobbie, you threatened a man with a club.”

“And you’re closing early. You never close early.”

“I’m going to have a drink. You’re welcome to join me.” Chrisjen led the way through theback room that served as a break area to the cramped closet-like space that was effectively her office. The coffee shop didn’t have a liquor license, but Chrisjen had a bottle of whiskey stashed in her desk that she had bought on a whim.

“Just one.”

“Just one,” Chrisjen agreed. “Then you’re going to go home and give your little girl a kiss for me.” She cracked the bottle and poured a scant measure into a couple of paper cups. Not the way she preferred her whiskey, but when you got right to it very little in her life was the way she preferred anymore.

Bobbie took a sip and grimaced. Chrisjen chuckled. “Lagavulin, it’s not.”

They sat quietly for a time. “Thank you for not firing me. Anyone else would have after what I did. In fact, everywhere else I’ve worked has…for a hell of a lot less reason than you had today.”

Chrisjen shrugged. “I flatter myself, I’m a better judge of character than your previous employers.”

“They all knew I was a vet, but that didn’t matter.”

“My opinion of your character doesn’t have anything to do with your time in the Marines.”

“Maybe it fucked me up a little, but I’m not ashamed of it,” Bobbie said defensively. “It’s part of who I am.”

“I know. But it’s not all of who you are.” Bobbie was too young to have been a part of the squads that had been deployed against the OPA when Chrisjen had been calling those sorts of shots rather than the caffeinated kind. But things of that nature never changed. Chrisjen had seen the same kind of loss in Bobbie’s eyes as she did in the mirror.

Chrisjen rarely pushed the younger woman to expose herself, but found that if she remained open and honest, Bobbie would make the effort to respond in kind. The ex-marine relaxed slightly. “Why did you open a coffee shop anyway? You understand people. You should have opened a bar.”

Chrisjen laughed. “It was Arjun’s idea, my husband. Coffee and poetry going together or some such nonsense.” She paused before forcing a rueful smile onto her face. “He never got to see it, but I’m still stuck running the fucking place.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Shut up.” She said it firmly, but without malice, and plucked the empty cup from Bobbie’s hand. “Go home and I’ll see you tomorrow.”


	2. Chapter 2

Opening in the morning was easily Chrisjen’s favorite task. Actually, it was probably the only thing she could say she didn’t dislike outright about the ins and outs of her business. When the days were long like they were now, she got to watch the sunrise through the large picture windows at the front of the store long before any customers showed. The smell of brewing coffee was pleasant even if she preferred to drink tea, and there was something to be said for the quiet when she had to deal with neither customers nor employees. This morning she was only slightly surprised to see Cotyar Ghazi come in the door a few minutes after she had unlocked it.

“Good morning!” He looked around. “Is—”

“Bobbie won’t be in until later.”

“Oh, that’s—okay.”

The door jangled again as Theo bustled in. “Morning Ms. Rao.”

“Thank you for coming in on short notice, Theo.”

“Sure!” he said brightly. “I don’t have classes until this afternoon.” Theo was one of those people that Chrisjen suspected woke up highly caffeinated. It was exhausting being around him, but he was certainly the right man for the morning shift.

Cotyar frowned at the newcomer. “Is Bobbie okay?”

“I didn’t fire her after all if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“No, not that, but...you’ve heard from her this morning?”

“Yes.” Cotyar’s insistence brought all of Chrisjen’s worries from the previous day flooding back. “Why do you ask?”

Cotyar shrugged casually. “Well, after yesterday…”

“What happened yesterday?” Theo butted in.

The bell rang again and Chrisjen was able to divert Theo by encouraging him to actually do his job. She directed Cotyar to the book nook and spoke quietly. “Exactly what about yesterday’s events makes you worry about Bobbie?” If he was worried about her state of mind, Chrisjen would grudgingly chalk it up to his apparent interest in her. If he was worried about Bobbie, her six-foot tall, ex-marine, whom he had witnessed wielding an improvised weapon, being in physical danger…that was a problem. And that scared the shit out of her.

“The men with the flyers—”

“There was more than one?” she replied sharply.

“Not here, no, but—”

“I think you need to come clean with me right now, Mr. Ghazi. Do you work for the government?”

“No.” He shook his head slowly.

She recognized the half truth for what it was. “But you did. When?”

Guilt twisted his face. “Not since 2000.”

“Then why the fuck are you here?” A patron in line turned her head sharply in their direction. Chrisjen lowered her voice. “Have we met?”

“Not formally, no.”

“But you know my name.”

“Yes.”

Chrisjen waited for him to elaborate, but he seemed unable to bring himself to volunteer more. Finally she shook her head. “Get out. When you feel like telling me who the fuck you are and what the fuck you’re doing here you’re welcome to patronize my establishment again.”

“Look, I’ve got my ear to the ground and I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

“Wonderful. I’ve always wanted a vigilante watching my back. Get the fuck out.” She put a hand on his arm and gave him a shove towards the door.

“I knew Charanpal.”

Chrisjen froze. Her breath caught high in her chest and the world narrowed.

“I was part of his security detail.”

“Fuck you.” Somehow she knew what he was going to say before the words left his mouth. She really didn’t want to hear it, but she found herself rooted to the spot.

“It was my fault—”

“Fuck you!” she hissed, finally able to make her limbs move. She spun on her heel and all but ran to the back room. There was hardly room to pace, but once she was in motion Chrisjen found she couldn’t stop, so pace she did. She thought briefly about calling the police, but dismissed it as quickly. What law had he broken?

She was still there twenty minutes later when Bobbie finally arrived. The young woman threw her jacket across a chair and grabbed her apron. “I’m sorry! I know you said I could bring Addy here, but my mom had to drive into the city anyway and she insisted. So," Bobbie shrugged helplessly, "it just seemed like a better idea to wait for her. I get why the daycare won't take her when she's sick but I don't know what I'd do if—”

“Mmhmm, it’s fine.” Chrisjen nodded distractedly, unable to really attend to Bobbie’s words. She still hadn’t decided what Cotyar’s presence meant. Was there really a credible OPA threat or was he just here to try and unburden himself of his apparent guilt. Naturally if it was the latter, she didn’t want anything to do with him. She had enough of her own fucking guilt, thank you very much. But she couldn’t determine if it was the former unless she spoke to him again.

“Theo is getting slammed out there. Are you punishing him for something?” Bobbie stopped halfway through tying her knot. “Chrisjen?” She put her hands on either side of Chrisjen’s shoulders, stilling her. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“I…” She really needed to calm the fuck down. She was doing herself no good letting her mind spin in circles about things she couldn’t change. “Is he still out there?

“Who?”

“The man who was here yesterday afternoon. Cotyar Ghazi.”

“I don’t know; I didn’t look. The place is packed. Why? Did he do something?”

“Have you seen the man who was here with the flyer—”

“That racist piece of shit? Fuck.” Echoes of anger and betrayal boiled across Bobbie’s face and her grip on Chrisjen tightened. “Was Cotyar with him?” she ground out. “I’m going to beat the—”

“No. No, I don’t think he was with him," Chrisjen reassured her. "I think he may know something about him. I didn’t mean to worry you.” Chrisjen brought her hands up as high as Bobbie’s grip on her shoulders would allow and pulled down gently on her arms, easing her unthinking vice. “Do you think you can you help Theo without attacking anyone this morning?”

“Yeah, of course,” Bobbie groused.

“Good.”

“I’m not a complete basket case," she argued. "And technically I didn’t attack that guy.” 

“I stand corrected, but if you’ve destroyed the place before the end of your shift I’m going to revisit my decision to keep you on.”

Bobbie gave her a small smile. “But then you could open that bar.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for an attempted mass shooting.

Chrisjen followed Bobbie back out a few minutes later. It really wasn’t fair to Theo or Bobbie to leave them working alone during the morning rush, no matter how unsettled she felt. Chrisjen scanned the front and spotted Cotyar settled into the corner, a book in his hands. She saw no sign of the man Bobbie had run out the day before. Her eyes kept drifting back to Cotyar. He looked, for all the world, exactly like a scruffy grad-student with no place better to sit and work than the local coffeeshop.

Only she knew better now, and the more she studied him the more obvious it became that rather than reading his book, he was surveilling the room. Her jaw tightened. Exactly how long was he planning on keeping this up?

As it turned out, Chrisjen wasn’t the only one watching him. When the first wave of customers had ebbed, Bobbie walked up to him with a smile and a fresh cup of coffee. Chrisjen observed this with narrowed eyes. They spoke for a time and she couldn’t help but notice that as the conversation went on Bobbie’s smile became more and more feral. Chrisjen didn’t bother to dig into people’s psyches much anymore and she was definitely feeling out of practice. What the fuck were they about? Despite her words to Bobbie earlier, Chrisjen didn’t give a flying fuck about her furniture. She did care about Bobbie, however, and she didn’t like the idea of involving her in whatever kind of crazy Cotyar was.

By the time the lunch crowd had finally cleared Chrisjen was ready to have Cotyar forcibly evicted from the premises. He had hardly moved from his stakeout in the corner where, Chrisjen realized belatedly, he could see everything in the room. She hadn't bothered to take a break until now because while she’d make sure Theo and Bobbie took them, fuck it, she owned the place, and if she were the least bit honest with herself she was not looking forward to the conversation that was about to take place.

She made herself a cup of tea and prepared another cup of coffee for her stalker. When she walked up to his table he pulled out the chair beside him rather than the one directly across from him for her to sit in. Her mouth thinned but she accepted the paranoia that kept him from putting her back to the door.

“Alright, Mr. Ghazi.”

Cotyar smiled at her. “For the record, I prefer the term freelance operative to vigilante.”

She snorted in spite of herself. “How long then, as a 'freelance operative', do you intend to haunt me?”

“I know that these aren't the best of circumstances for us to have met in—”

“What exactly are the circumstances? You have yet to give me any information other than vague and unsubstantiated claims that you’re concerned for my safety.”

“I realize I haven’t given you reason to trust me—”

“And that you were somehow responsible for the death of my son,” Chrisjen cut in. “Which, far from engendering my trust, makes me want to have one of my employees beat you with the chair leg she acquired for herself yesterday.”

“I have to say, you certainly know how to pick your help,” Cotyar chuckled ruefully. “Bobbie suggested undertaking a similar course of action herself. Please believe me, I didn’t mean for all this to be quite so cloak and dagger. I’m honestly surprised you didn’t recognize my name. I assumed you would have gone through every available record to find those involved in what happened to Charanpal.”

“What would have been the point?”

“You strike me as the type of person to hold a grudge.”

“I am.” Chrisjen stared him down, her face unmoving. “But in Charanpal’s case, I already knew who’s fault it was.” Hers. Even if this idiot had somehow failed in his job, Chrisjen had put her son in the line of fire to begin with. Cotyar looked away and Chrisjen forged ahead. “Now, you’re not with the government. Why are you here, worrying about a boy posting flyers, when they aren't?”

“I received some intel from a contact a few weeks ago that suggested a Ne-Op cell had acquired your whereabouts. This same contact suggested that the current heads of intelligence didn’t believe them a credible threat. Mostly because they don’t think anyone remembers you might still be alive.”

“But you think they do.”

“I think hate is easy to sow, hard to control, and unfortunately, easy to predict.”

Chrisjen raised an eyebrow at this. The man sitting next to her wasn’t crazy after all. On the contrary, he seemed rather astute. Perhaps he was here out of some misguided sense that he owed her something, but that wasn’t really her problem. “What exactly are you proposing? All evidence to the contrary,” she said waving a hand at their surroundings, “I don’t relish the idea of running and hiding.”

“Would you be willing to close up for, a week maybe, long enough for me to put some more feelers out to get a sense of how big this really is.”

Chrisjen sighed and stood. It was inconvenient, but if someone was really planning on targeting her…Bobbie, Theo, Soren, any of her employees or customers could be caught up in the crossfire. “I’ll think about—”

The door chime sounded and without further warning Chrisjen found herself on the floor, a deep ache radiating through her skull. Cotyar was lying on top of her; someone was screaming. A rattle of gunfire echoed above her. Some part of her brain thought semi-automatic. Two loud pops rang out next to her and then she was staring into the unseeing face of the blond haired boy Bobbie had chased off. She tried to move backwards but Cotyar’s weight was pinning her down. “What the fuck!?”

“Out! Get out! Move your ass and don't stop until you are well clear! Out!” Bobbie’s voice had taken on the tenor of a drill sergeant and Chrisjen turned her gaze upwards to see her marshaling the few customers they had through the door. She blinked and the world changed again. Bobbie was on her knees next to her. “Chrisjen! Where are you hurt?”

“I’m not. I don’t think,” she breathed.

Cotyar pushed himself up on his arms. “We need to move,” he grunted.

Tires squealed on the pavement and Chrisjen heard a crunch that could only have been a car impacting the concrete bollards that lined the sidewalk. “Oh shit,” Bobbie said, ducking down. She took a hold of Chrisjen and rolled her to her stomach holding an arm outstretched over her head. Glass rained down on them as more gunfire came from the street outside. She wasn’t sure how they made it to the service counter, but the next thing she was certain of was being drug behind it.

“Okay, my timing could have been better.”

Chrisjen stared at him. “You were carrying a gun? Can you not fucking read?” She pointed to the sign on the wall that read ‘Guns Banned On These Premises”

He looked at her like she was insane, maybe he was right. It was an odd thing to be concerned with just now. “I just saved your life with this gun.”

“Those cunts are still trying to kill us so you don’t get to make that claim yet,” she bit back. Shock, that was what was happening. She was going into shock.

“You don’t happen to have another gun, do you?” Bobbie asked innocently.

Cotyar shook his head. “The first shooter isn’t using his but that’s a bit out of reach.” A few more bullets buried themselves in the counter behind them to punctuate his point.

“Oh god, we’re all gonna die,” Theo squeaked. Chrisjen turned in surprise to see her part-time help cowering at the far end of the counter. Judging from the looks on Bobbie and Cotyar’s faces they too had forgotten he had been there.

“What the hell are you still doing here, Theo?! Why didn’t you run when you had the chance?” Bobbie practically shouted.

Theo stared at her like a deer caught in the headlights, his voice nearly a whisper. “You didn’t.”

“Okay, forget it. We need to take stock. I saw two cars pull up. Not sure how many shooters though.”

Chrisjen leaned forward and reached for the junk drawer. Bobbie jumped, ready to jerk her back, but merely ended up hovering over her protectively when she saw that Chrisjen hadn’t been foolish enough to raise her head above the countertop. She fished for a moment and then yanked the drawer all the way out. Odds and ends spilled onto the floor. “Where the fuck is it?”

Finally she found what she had been hunting for, a compact. Bobbie took the flat disc and angled it so she could see over the flattop. “Three, no four of them on the sidewalk. None of them behind cover. Idiots.” she muttered.

Bobbie passed the mirror to Cotyar. “Nine rounds left in this clip. Twenty total,” he informed them.

“Doesn’t really matter. They’re too far apart. At best you’d get two before the others got smart.”

Cotyar nodded. “Don’t want them coming in here though.” He popped up and took three quick shots before dropping back down. His actions were answered by cries of pain, shouting, and another hail of gunfire. “Only winged him, but they’ll think twice about coming in.”

Chrisjen felt like she was going to jump out of her skin with every bullet fired. She had to find a way to focus. “Cotyar, this cell…how fanatical are they?”

“If killing one and wounding another didn’t send them running I doubt you’ll be able to talk them down if that’s what you’re thinking.”

She shook her head. “Very shortly they will come in here whether you shoot at them or not.”

“What makes you say that?” Bobbie asked.

“If we're still alive when the police arrive, they'll have no where else to go.”

“Oh god, oh god—”

“Hey! Hey!” Chrisjen crawled across Bobbie and grabbed Theo by the front of his shirt so that she had his attention. “You’re scared; you’re overwhelmed. So are we. Take a breath.” She inhaled with him. “That’s it.” Chrisjen kept Theo’s eyes locked on her for a few more breaths before releasing him. “We need a distraction.”

“I never thought I’d wish for explosives again,” Bobbie moaned.

“Remind me to put it on the list next time I’m ordering stock.”

“Why don’t we use that?” Everyone turned to Theo again, their eyes following his outstretched arm to the espresso machine sitting on the shelf behind the counter.

“That could really be a bomb?” Cotyar asked skeptically.

“Not likely. The water’s under high pressure, but it’s got built-in failsafes to prevent it from exploding.” Chrisjen shook her head. “I wouldn’t begin to know how to sabotage it.”

“Disconnect the pressure stat, break the relief valve, and pull the fusible plug. That’d do it.”

Chrisjen and Bobbie stared at Theo as if he had grown a second head. “You know how to do this?” Chrisjen finally managed.

“Yeah? I’m studying electrical engineering. I like to know how things work.”

“Okay then,” Bobbie said decidedly. “Cotyar, cover me.”

Cotyar nodded, gave her a count and began laying down fire. Bobbie sprang up and hauled the machine down to the floor, it’s water line stretching to the limit. A bottle on the shelf caught a bullet meant for one of them and exploded, showering them with sticky hazelnut syrup. Theo grabbed a screwdriver that had rolled out of the drawer on the floor and set to work. Cotyar fired back twice more while Theo carefully trashed the safety components of their improvised bomb.

All but Theo froze when the sound of sirens reached their ears.

“We’re out of time.”

“I got it, I got it!” Theo exclaimed. He hit the on-switch and the espresso machine began to gurgle and hiss.

“Now what?” Chrisjen asked looking around. She was rapidly coming to the end of her calm.

“Now we need to get out of here.” Bobbie grabbed Chrisjen, one had around her waist, the other at the back of her head.

Cotyar moved first, firing slowly but steadily out the front of the store. Theo heaved his creation back up on the shelf behind the counter and sprinted after Bobbie and Chrisjen. The four of them retreated through the break room and further back into Chrisjen’s office. Bobbie hauled Chrisjen across her desk and then Cotyar and Theo wedged it against the door. The sirens reached their peak and fell silent. Chrisjen heard the muffled sounds of the police issuing orders over a loud speaker followed by the racket resulting from their attackers’ resistance. Underneath it all she imagined she could hear the hiss of steam straining to escape.

The four of them stood like sardines in the cramped space, barely breathing, until the clatter of gunfire was interrupted by a low concussive blast. It rattled the door and made Chrisjen grit her teeth as the pressure popped her ears.

Theo had a stupid grin on his face.

Cotyar waited a minute and then pulled the desk far enough back to crack the door. Smoke drifted in toward the ceiling.

Bobbie’s grip on Chrisjen tightened. “It wasn’t that kind of bomb, was it?”

“No.” Theo responded dazedly.

“I smell gas.”

“Oh fuck me.”

They ran toward the exit, hands in the air. Cotyar had wisely abandoned his pistol somewhere inside. Chrisjen was glad. She didn’t need to see anyone else shot today. The center portion of the cashier’s counter was missing, blown to flinders by Theo’s bomb. Chairs and tables had been flung aside leaving them an easy path out the door. They staggered into the parking lot where police were cuffing two stupefied Ne-Op terrorists.

“The gas line—” Cotyar managed to get out as emergency responders surrounded them.

The second explosion was far bigger than the first. Chrisjen was thrown forward, her palms and face stinging as she hit the asphalt. The initial shockwave was followed by a roaring sound that drowned out everything around it and a blast of heat.

When she finally felt she could manage it Chrisjen rolled over to see flurries of dark ash falling like snow from the sky. She pulled herself up to a seated position, staring in shock. The coffee shop was gone, a blasted out building framed by brick facing all that remained. She caught her breath and turned, eyes searching for Bobbie, Cotyar, and Theo. Bobbie leaned into her from behind and Chrisjen grabbed her hand, pulling the younger woman in tight to her side. Cotyar wasn't far, trying to help a faint Theo to his feet.

A laugh bubbled to the surface, giddy relief flooding her. She knew she’d be shaking soon. “I fucking hated that place.”

“I know,” Bobbie said kindly. “Holy shit. What are you going to do now?”

She laid her head against Bobbie’s shoulder. “That depends. How do you feel about working nights?”


End file.
